The price of liberty
by Mandalore112
Summary: Third person (erotic)drama occurring between Duchess Satine and the Death Watch operative Laas Kad'ar, the - detestable and generally savage - liaison between Satine and the Death Watch leadership.
1. Introductory prolouge

Author's overture - notes regarding the story.

This story transpires in an alternate timeline - note timeline, not 'universe'. All of the actions that has taken place in the Star wars - the clone wars series will or has happened. (Apart from Satine's death and the Jedi arrival on Mandalore) Since I will only be covering a small part of the generalized lore as a whole, there will not be any reason to fear that I will break anything of significance.

This narration is M classed and contains exaggerated mature themes, but with little to no solid violence. When brutality is indeed taken account of it will solely be in a pseudo spirit. I.E; there will be no characters crying over the dagger that has stabbed them in the abdomen.  
The story will contain multiple scenes of pure coercion, rape - note the term pseudo in the overture and eventually (if you ever wish for the violence between the two to end) a tad of engineered Stockholm's syndrome to induce love and adjust the story to become one about a weird development of affection.

Prime inspiration for the creation of this tale: ID: 1124237 on rule-34. The editor does not allow me to factor in the links to other websites for an unknown reason, thus you'll simply have to place the ID in any picture link. (/post/view/1124237)

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Introduction:

The Jedi were never sent to Mandalore to inspect and determine the truth of the rumors regarding a secret build up of armed forces. The infamous and antagonizing Death Watch were left forlorn by the Republic, and Satine Kryze's decree for aid after the subsequent usurpation became bleared and unheard as a result of the core world's - and consequently, the Grand army's - retirement from the outer rim. The Death Watch's seizure of political and totalitarian control on Mandalore was inevitable. Duchess Satine remained on the throne as the head of state for the Mandalorian proletariat while remaining as only the feigned leader of the planet; the hands of the Death Watch controlled her actions malevolently, and they as a result ruled the entire planet covertly. Recruitment centers for the new Mandalorian army were constructed and established rapidly, eventually succeeding and replacing Duchess Satine's pacifistic institutions conjointly with truculent academies which fielded operatives destined for war on the confederate front.

Approximately one year after the first recognizable acquisition of power was made by the Death Watch forces, Laas Kad'ar was appointed to control and maintain power in the government main office. He later became Duchess Satine's personal handler, the liaison to which she would submit all and any requests and receive all orders from.


	2. Target of control - chapter one

Casual scribbles:

Hello FF.

This is my first real "story", so to speak. I'm quite versed in methods of writing, but I've never actually taken myself the time to write a portion such as this. Essays and reports have been on my table for the most part. Well, I attempted to write this as best as possible in a third person perspective, but I find that it is quite difficult to do so without loosing the reader's interest with repeated parts such as "He proceeds to do that as he thinks this. She answers him thus and alters her stance accordingly before she places the palm of her hand on her face." You get my point most likely.

If people actually take interest to this first chapter I'll attend to a second one as soon as possible, but what I'm most interested in is your opinions. Do you like my style? Should I experiment a bit with first person? Should I even continue? Should I write more in each chapter? This was only about 1200 words or so.

Things such at that. Try to scrutinize me as best as possible with constructive criticism, not simply "This was good for a fap" or "I really liked the part where she killed him" or anything of the kind. Thanks.

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Tick, tock; tick, tock; tick, tock. The beating rhythm of time; Satine Kryze examined the tall, slim and overly commanding object of intricate clockwork that stood static near the center of the room. The head of the pillar-like clock was perpendicular to all four corners of the room and contained one array of classical and modern designs - of which four displays were incorporated - that synchronized the time with the galactic standard clock located on Coruscant. The three indicators which were present on each of the four round watch pieces could be seen from any direction inside the expanse of her noble residence, generating - according to Satine herself - a "spirit of awareness and assurance in a galaxy full of uncertainty and timid aggression."

Satine sat by her desk and contemplated the latter words, which she had spoken earlier this particular day in an interview with a planet-wide newscast. The correspondents who were permitted inside her housing were pleased by the magnificence of her furniture and the fashion that adorned her walls, but were left moderately perplexed by the utterly giant clock displaced in the middle of the room by some wretched sense of parallax and maddening symmetry. Her right hand slowly began to glide down and lose its altitude; it slipped along her cheek as a result of the lubricating sweat. "  
"For how long have I sat here?" She thought and immediately began to analyze her perceptions and the periphery of her sight. The sun was on the verge of descent beneath the horizon and her drink was luke-warm. She shook her head violently in an attempt to banish the vertigo and the befuddlement in her mind.  
In an inanely strange and eerie moment of omnipotence she managed to trace the clock pointers back roughly four hours from the juncture where she first took seat in her armchair. "Four hours..." she whispered silently to herself, perpetuating the motionless and indifferent demeanor of lull and composure. Astonished by the complete loss of the apprehension of time, she rose to her feet and her body immediately began to cast a long shadow that stretched to the very perimeter of the room. The solar wind of light surprised and dazed her and she began to take blind steps to the side, aiming to move around the desk. A familiar reverberation sought it's path into her ears, compelling her to raise a hand to shroud her eyes from the blinding light as she gazed outside through the open balcony gates. It was the common sound of approaching bane, and at the moment she realized the tangibility of her preconceptions: The renowned harbinger of both annoyance and anger had already arrived and was hovering over her terrace.

The sound of a standard issue Mandalorian jetpack engine's exhaust flailing violently against an obstruction - the hardwood that constituted the floor - roared throughout the room until Laas finally descended and deactivated the thrusters. Satine's screamed in anguish and anger inside herself, rage akin to no other. She blurted out **"Heavens above! Do you know how painstaking it was for me to acquire that canvas?! Those few pieces of wood are in the highest of likelihoods worth more credits than what you've seen in your life!"** spontaneously without care for the consequences.

A towering agent of melancholy loomed, completely stationary with hands crossed at the balcony entrance. It was the figure of an athlete - alloyed and auspiciously fortified with the remarkable armor of a Mandalorian knight, the conventional and most admired apparel for the Death Watch commandos. It was a mortal composite - the hybridization of the warrior spirit, the ultimate physique of a soldier and the state-of-the-art equipment of the present time. The darkness that reigned over the balcony's exit synergized with the stunning god-rays emanating from the sun and actuated it into an oppressive and blinding sight with the dark figure acting single-handedly as the interim dark spot. It was the most awesome of all natural collaborations between forces of nature.

A meager chuckle followed shortly after the verity of Laas' landing, a reponse insinuating slight entertainment for Satine's impulsive reaction. The speech encoded and dark voice of Laas echoed in the room and grew only louder as he redacted more and more distance between the two of them.  
**"Shut up, Satine - less you want me to wreck this entire facility." **Said Laas with a challenging and audacious tone of voice - the regular vocal expression for a man of his caliber and standing.  
**"Rumor has it that you appeared on the news today, Duchess. You didn't... Inform them of anything deemed as... Classified... Did you? Because that would be bad... Quite... Quite bad." **He continued while he decelerated his intimidating approach towards Satine's position. **"For you, that is." **Laas added finally and concluded his speech. His eyes glared at Satine's body, endorsing it with a thorough examination. Laas' wayward left hand slipped covertly up unto Satine's thigh and sought a position in contact with the sensitive higher-part of her loins, which was adjacent to her corresponding butt-cheek. He grinned menacingly inside his helmet before his hand clutched tightly onto the flesh beneath it, causing Satine to gasp and blush in understandable embarrassment. The Duchess answered his boldness with harsh resistance - resistance that proved to be in vain after a heavy battle of struggling limbs and extremities.

A deep sigh, conveying the recognition of defeat, was expelled from the direction of the Duchess. **"Aargh... No - no, no and no! Let go of me already, you pathetic whelp! I don't give a damn if you think you're the superior here, you do not simply enter my home and-" **A bright white flash invaded her mind and brought an abrupt halt to her diction. She felt herself thrown to the side, against the horizontal line of her desk, by a tremendous force that coalesced on her right-sided temple.  
The bright flash of white slowly dimmed out and dissolved, prompting her sight to return to its previous power. Satine's mind and senses acknowledged two hands moving about at her hindquarters, dislocating and disturbing the worn clothing. She gathered herself and inhaled deeply, uttering herself quietly and submissively. **"You- you hit me..."**

**"Of course I did. With your impudence I cannot see how you survived me for so long in the first place." **Laas responded as he maintained his attempts to dismantle the intricate lower piece of Duchess Satine's robe. **"Y-You will not get away with this..." **She said blindly and without purpose, fully aware that her words would carry nor convey any sense of redirection to the soldier behind her.  
Satine's last desperate attempts to veer and deter Laas failed, and within seconds the garment leisurely drifted off Satine's lower figure and revealed the entirety of the body below her torso to Laas, multiplying his hunger and ardor tenfold. The Duchess bit her lips in anticipation of the final act. Laas languidly guided his trembling hands to Satine's hips before they eagerly acquired a hold on the panties that she wore to protect her slit.

Laas snickered silently to himself on the account of the awkward sight: a white thong with red hearts bestrewn across the fabric. The picture of Satine's underwear provoked a surging emotion - an instant discomfort with his propulsive and persistent behavior - within him; the panties were rather cute, in all sincerity, and he dared not simply ruin this special class of innocence with his regular ruthlessness. The hindsight and recollection of the past commotion triggered a weak spirit of kindness in him.  
"I ought to trifle a tad with the lady first~" He thought in his mind whilst debating a number of differing means of proceeding. His hands began their journey downwards along the declivity shaping Satine's alluring curves.

Uncertain thoughts of inception and displacement occupied their minds: Satine herself doubted the reality of the situation she was in, the predetermination appeared to be remarkably unbelievable; was it a perverse dream of an existence she desired subconsciously?  
On the other side of the card was Laas; his innate desire to dominate and subjugate Satine, his woman of choice, would ultimately pressure him to transgress his very own limitations ardently in raw instinct. His ruthless and merciless component thwarted the sudden and amiable gallantry posthaste; the end result was the choice of a far more wicked scheme. The most inconvenient penalty to his actions would after all only be a possible relegation - a reassignment to his company's headquarters - or a weak reprimand in a data-record that scarcely existed, if it all. His head was put on a thoughtful tilt as he studied the potential causes and effects in conclusion before the decision was made.

The blush on Satine's cheeks was augmented severely in response to the chilling zephyr of air that grazed against the wet boundaries of her now exposed sex.  
A concluding realization that she was without a doubt experiencing the truth shocked her with deeper and more cumbersome apprehension. Their status quo escalated tremendously and was on the verge of advancement to the next stage.

**"We're going to have a lot of fun..."**

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If you can manage the time, I'd be delighted if you could write a short review of both the story and me and my approach to the portrayal of the story in written format. I definitely feel that my use of prepositions (As he, as she, before she, before he, whilst...) is excessive. It's almost as if I was writing a theater script and not a story.

If you're adept or possibly a veteran at this sort of thing - illustrating actions taken by actors in written form - then it would be bliss if you could spare me a tip or two about your methodology. Thank you for reading once again.


End file.
